Give Us Tomorrow
by kingcael
Summary: Pre-game. Auron travels to Dream Zanarkand to fulfil a promise to a friend. After the events of the Final Summoning, he wonders if he is a suitable guardian at all. Rating for blood, and depiction of trauma. Multi-chapter, based on a series of drawings.
1. Guardian

**Guardian**

She cried when she saw me walking up the pier.

I saw her before she saw me. She looked like an old flower, neglected to the point that she was withering of her own accord. Against the sizzling colours of the sunset, she was insubstantial and pale.

The boy, Tidus, was holding on to her skirt, and was shifting from foot to foot. He tugged on her skirt, and she looked away from the blazing skyline and saw me.

I probably looked hideous. My face was obscured by a ragged scar, and my clothes were ripped and dirty. I could feel the tickling trickle of blood flowing underneath my armour, but ignored it as best I could.

I don't know how, but without a word, she reached a conclusion. Her hands shook, and she slowly sank to her knees.

I saw a bird fall from a nest once, when I was young. It just lost all its energy, said the man in charge of the temple. Lovebirds die when they lose their mates.

Tidus tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away, hiding her face.

A lump formed in my throat as I saw her bony hand push her son away. It was such a selfish gesture.

I stepped forward, and Tidus glared at me, his bright blue eyes shining. His stare was accusatory, trying to be fierce, but there was turmoil behind it. Like his father. So like his father.

"Who are you?" Tidus demanded, standing defensively in front of his mother. "What do you want?"

"My name is Auron." I stopped, my heart pounding. Jecht didn't tell me it would be like this. "I was sent here…"

"By my husband?" She stood up, her voice whispering out of her mouth like a quavery flute. "Jecht sent you, didn't he?"

"He… did." My own voice was small.

"He's dead," she whispered. "He's dead."

"I… I don't know," I replied. "He said to come find you."

She stood up, her head still hung low.

Tidus frowned, and turned around. "Mommy, don't listen. This guy doesn't even know stupid old dad."

He grabbed her hand, and she wrenched it out of his grasp. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked resolutely to the end of the pier. Eight steps. She paused a moment, and then hopped off.

"Mommy!" Tidus ran to the end of the pier, and looked down. I assumed she was swimming away, but his panic suggested otherwise. "Mommy, what are you doing? You're not even trying!"

I hurried to the end of the dock, wincing at every step. The water was lapping fiercely against the pier, and a foam of bubbles was all the evidence that she had jumped.

"You made her jump!" Tidus kicked my shin, and tugged at my robe, little fists frantic.

I looked from him to the water, and, after dropping my sword on the deck, I jumped in after her. The water slapped me full across the face, and I sunk like a stone. I could see her watery form coalescing in a swath of bubbles and flowing fabric. I swam to her, and grabbed her around the waist, kicking hard off the bottom and swimming upward with her in tow. Jecht would have done this with much more grace and efficiency. She was a dead weight, and seemed to subconsciously want to drown me. I choked, and swam one handed to the pier where Tidus seemed to have alerted someone to the problem. More capable hands took her from me, and it was all I could do to cling to the pier. I could feel the wounds on my body opening under the bandages, the water was red all around me. Was it my robe… the sunset…?

o-o-o-o-o-o

 _He doesn't even know he's dead._

 _He is though, or he wouldn't be here._

 _Is that right? His mind seems to think he's still alive._

 _Of course it does. He wouldn't be bleeding if it didn't._

o-o-o-o-o-o

I coughed, and sat up, my head spinning. I feel like I drank my entire bottle in one go. My mouth felt like it had cotton stuffed in it. A rhythmic swaying of the room made me feel nauseous. What happened-?

New bandages covered my body, and I was sitting in a dark room. There was light from down a hallway, and a murmuring of voices.

"You're lying!" Tidus' voice, followed by a chorus of 'shh'.

"No!" He cried again, and I could hear his feet stamping against the floor boards. His steps got louder, and he ran into the room. He saw me, and his face twisted into a furious expression. "Why did you have to come here, huh?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean-"

"It doesn't matter!" Tidus spat. "I don't need you! We don't need you! Get out!"

I nodded, and stood up. My armour was on the table next to the sofa I had been lying on, and I gathered it and my bottle, which was still full. Good. I was going to need that. My sword was leaning against the wall by what I assumed was the front door.

A wave of dizziness spun my steps, and I stumbled, putting my hand out to catch my balance against the sofa. I misjudged the distance, and crashed head first into the nearby stair. I cursed, damning the loss of my eye. Some warrior.

"Tidus!" A voice hissed. "What are you doing? This man needs rest!"

"I'm going," I said. "He asked me to go." I pushed myself up, still feeling incredibly dizzy. I was fairly certain there was a stair-shaped indent in my forehead now.

"Don't be ridiculous!" The new person, an older woman said. Her voice was like a twig snapping. She approached me, and lifted me up with surprising strength. "Get back on that sofa, young man, or you'll have a worse time of it than you already do."

She pushed me down on the sofa, and I finally got a look at her face. Like an old apple, but still ripe in the cheeks.

"Gemma, he's weird, and I don't want him here!" Tidus stood beside her, his hands balled into fists.

"Tidus, that is enough out of you. This man just saved your mother." She cleared the hair from my face, and readjusted what felt like sticky paper against my forehead. "You could do with being a bit more grateful."

"But he-!" Tidus cut himself off. He turned to me, and looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my scarred eye. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's fine. I'm… sorry too."

Gemma pursed her lips, and uncorked a bottle with a pop. "Drink this, and don't you try to stand up again until at least the morning."

I took the bottle with a trembling hand. Trembling. I'm pathetic. I downed the bottle, and handed it back to her.

"Lay down," she ordered, and I obliged. With a fluid movement, she draped a heavy woollen blanket over me, and tucked it in on the sides.

She sat in the chair beside the window, and took out a pipe. Tidus hesitantly sat at my feet, squished between the arm of the sofa and me.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Auron."

"And you are from?"

I paused, wondering what I should say. "Bevelle."

A puff of smoke clouded around her, and then whisked out the window. "And you met Jecht there?"

I felt Tidus stiffen, and he crossed his arms.

"Yes, we were… comrades."

"He's dead?"

"I don't know."

"He sent you here? You don't seem in good condition. If you made it here, and he didn't, he must have been worse off than you, and you've got a foot in the grave."

I didn't know what that meant, but I took it to be a bad thing. "He told me to look after his son."

"Are you going to?" Gemma asked, looking at me appraisingly. I tried to return her stare, but my eyelid drooped.

"To the best of my abilities. I'll guard him with my life."

"You hear that, Tidus?" Gemma tapped her pipe in the nearby ashtray. "You've got a guardian."

Guardian… the word thrummed in my mind. I could see them, silhouettes standing before the pearlescent light of Sin.

A shrieking roar, and Jecht was different, thrashing black and red against the swirling forms around him.

And Braska… he smiled at me. He was pure, shining brightly as he commanded Jecht. Our friend… His Final Aeon.

"Take care of my son."

"Thank you, Auron."

"My son, in Zanarkand. He's such a crybaby."

"Thank you for being here with me in the end."

"He needs someone there to hold his hand, see?"

"It's… it's over. I brought the Calm, didn't I?"

"Take care of him, will you?"

"Thank you for being my guardian."

I didn't realise my hands were clutching my face until someone pulled them away. My fingernails raked against my skin, and something wet was on my palms. A low cry held long in my chest croaked out of my throat, and I felt tears burning in my eye. "No… I can't do it… But I have to protect…" I failed them, my friends, and I'm still here and I can't help them and I _failed._ No. I'll keep him safe. The promise seared through me, and I cried out. "I promise, Jecht!"

"-that bottle, yes, thank you, Tidus."

Glass touched my lips, and I parted them, eager for anything that might end the feeling strangling me. I swallowed thickly, grabbing at whatever was holding my hands down. Small hands. I relaxed, and they squeezed tightly.

I'm not a guardian.

I'm too weak.

o-o-o-o-o-o

 _He doesn't belong here._

 _He's seen too much sadness. These people won't understand._

 _I don't think we can make him leave._

 _You're right._

o-o-o-o-o-o

Morning eased into the room in a haze of dusty sunlight. I opened my eye and closed it again, mentally adjusting to the brightness. The rocking of the room was gentler than last night, though not particularly comfortable for me. I felt almost unbearably warm, the soft breeze that washed over my face was refreshing.

My body was heavy, I couldn't move the weight of the blanket. I looked down, and realised why the blanket felt so heavy.

Tidus was sleeping on me, draped over my legs with his head on my chest. The sofa was certainly large enough to accommodate both of us, so he didn't look uncomfortable at least.

I retraced my thoughts, remembering the night before. I was saying things, rambling. Something sent me back to Spira in my memories.

Small hands anchored me.

Someone walked by, behind the sofa, taking great care to not make too much noise. Based on the gait, I guessed it to be Gemma.

"It's not long now…" Her voice was low, and the deep rumble of an old man's voice answered.

"She seems relieved. We went over the will. She said it'll all go to the boy. And that _he's_ supposed to be his guardian. Something about how it was her husband's wish." The old man sounded sceptical.

"I suppose it must have been," Gemma said. "There's… something wrong with him. I feel almost certain Jecht is dead."

"His clothing… that sword. I've never seen anything like that around here. That's something you might see in a museum."

I coughed, unable to hold it back any longer. I heard both of them suppress a gasp, and Gemma padded over to the sofa, placing the back of her hand on my forehead.

"Still burning up, hm? I think you need some food," she said, and gently shook Tidus' shoulder. "Good morning, you. What do you want to eat?"

"O'meal," he mumbled, burying his face in my chest.

"Well it's good he took such a shine to you," Gemma said, busying herself in the kitchen. "He's emotional, that one."

"No, I'm not!" Tidus sat up, pushing painfully on my ribs. I must have visibly winced, because he scrambled off me, blushing. "S-sorry!"

"It's fine," I said. I sat up too, easing backwards, and leaned against the back of the sofa. "I'm sorry to be such a burden."

"We were already well-equipped to deal with something like this," Gemma said. I decided I liked her matter-of-fact tone. She reminded me of my teacher.

Breakfast was a largely silent affair; the old man, whose name was Abel, kept giving me suspicious looks. Anything he might have said was quickly intercepted by a warning glance from his wife.

Afterwards, they accompanied me upstairs, to the top of the houseboat for some fresh air. It was a peaceful day, with the odd seagull dipping down into the bay and people fishing off the pier. I was reminded of Besaid, until I looked behind me and saw the monolithic cityscape. My red robe was hanging on a laundry line, along with my pants and belt. Looking around briefly to make sure I wouldn't be scolded for moving around too much, I stood, and plucked my robe from the line, sliding it over the thin shirt I had been given. Instantly, I felt more comfortable, and sat back down, combing my fingers through my hair.

After a few minutes, I decided to find my belongings, particularly my comb. As I descended the stairs, Tidus tore past me, with tears in his eyes. He huffed over to the side of the boat, and sat, with his back to me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's Mom," he said.

"Is she all right?"

He pounded his little fist on the deck, hostile once more. "Why should you care?"

"If she dies, I wouldn't know what to do."

This was the wrong thing to say. Young death was an anomaly in Zanarkand. It was a peaceful life, with a peaceful end at a ripe age. In Spira, death was something that was ordinary, accepted as much as the sun and the sea.

"Don't say Mom is gonna die!" he cried, getting to his feet.

"I apologize," I said, but he was already leaving. I stood in the stairwell for a time, looking over the deck to the bustle of life beyond this houseboat.

I returned to the living room where my little area had been established, and found my comb after a moment of searching. After a few minutes of clumsily combing my too-far-gone hair, Gemma entered the room with a large pitcher and a defeated look. She clicked her tongue when she saw me, and shook her head.

"I can't do anything for someone who won't even try," she said. "Your arrival killed her hope."

I swallowed, and put my hands in my lap. "That was not my intention."

"I know. I'm just frustrated." Gemma took the comb, and began straightening out the matted mess of my hair. "She asked if you would take care of Tidus after… well. You know. Abel and I have been looking after them for the past month or so. Making sure he goes to school on time and such. But he needs someone at home."

"I see."

"You're going to try, aren't you? To be a good guardian?"

That word… I wish she'd stop saying it. I blinked quickly, trying to ignore the images that flashed in my mind's eye. If I had just been stronger… I could have done something.

"Auron, please! Just run away!"

"I can't leave you, not now!"

Rocks blasted upwards as the thing that was Jecht thrashed against Sin, throwing his sword and hacking into it. Braska lost his footing, and I grabbed his arm, hoisting him out of the newly-formed hole.

Sin screeched, and a blade of Sinspawn slashed in front of me. Braska leapt in front of it, pushing me aside. The Sinspawn cut through his robe, and blood splashed backwards, a few drops stinging my right eye. "Please, Auron. Please, run away from here!" His voice was frantic, and his eyes were too blue.

"My lord, I can't! I'm your guardian!"

Someone was pulling me away from him, stop it, stop! I have to go to him! I was being dragged away, but kept reaching for him. I can't let him go by himself.

He smiled and turned away.

"Please, get a hold of yourself," Gemma's voice. Right. It's over.

I shook my head, and took a deep breath.

"That's right, let go," she said. I looked up, and felt my hands on my face again. It felt like my fingertips left bruises. I relaxed, and she guided my hands down. "It's all right. You're safe here."

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. They shouldn't be doing that. Drops landed on them. My vision blurred. I remembered.

Gemma moved away from me for a moment, and then I felt a soft cloth on my face. "Something terrible happened," she said.

I nodded.

"You were supposed to protect someone."

I nodded again.

"But you couldn't," she said, catching my tears with the soft cloth.

I tried to reply with dignity, but the 'I couldn't' that left my lips was pathetic and cracked.

"But you made it here, didn't you? You're going to protect the boy?"

"Yes."

"Good," she patted my cheek with her wrinkled hand, and stood up. "Then I'll protect you. I'll avoid that word."

"Thank you…"

"You're welcome. Now hang on, I have to redress that wound on your face. You're going to have quite a scar if you keep tearing it back open like that."

I sat still, closing my eyes, and letting the sound of the ocean and the birds soothe me. Maybe this is where Jecht sat when he wanted a quiet moment. Perhaps just like this.

Gemma made short work of the redressing, and then picked up the comb as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I can't keep slipping away like that. I have to keep it together. I keep failing, Jecht, I'm sorry.

"Beautiful hair you have," she said, interrupting my thoughts. "Black as night. Too bad about all the grey, hm? You wear it well, though. Kind of a silver fox. Not like Abel, he didn't even get that stage. It all fell out when he turned 50." She laughed to herself. "But don't mention it, he's pretty sensitive. He used to be handsome like you."

I remained silent, but she seemed unbothered.

"You were some kind of historian, I take it? Why else would you have the sword and the odd clothes, hm?"

I wondered if she was giving me an out, some way to explain my oddities. "Yes… I did a lot of travelling before I arrived here. I met Jecht on my travels, and he sent me here."

"That's right," she said approvingly, combing from my scalp to the ends of my hair. "There. Back in order, though a bit greasy, sweetheart. I'll tie it back."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A few hours passed before Tidus returned, with a scraped knee and dirt on his clothes. Gemma was already preparing dinner, and tutted at his appearance. "I might as well start a hospital, huh?" She pointed at me. "You there, sweetie, there's some antiseptic and bandages in that case. Fix him up, will you?"

I obliged, putting my book down. Tidus shuffled over to me, and sat down. His face was grubby, and it looked like he'd been crying. I said nothing, except to ask him what antiseptic was.

He showed me the little bottle of clear liquid. "It's to make cuts better, but it hurts."

"I see. Do you drink it?" I asked, squinting at the label.

"No. Are you dumb?"

"I've never seen this before."

"You're weird."

"I know."

"You put it on the cut or whatever."

"I see." I poured some on a piece of gauze and dabbed his scraped knee. He hissed, but remained still. I could see Gemma watching us closely. She was probably passing some kind of judgment on me. Favourable, I hope, if I'm going to keep this promise.

He put the sticky bandage on himself, and then scurried off somewhere.

"Make sure you wash your hands!" Gemma called after him.

There was a silence, and I picked up my book again, back to the chapter about famous Zanarkand monuments.

"He trusts you already," Gemma said. "He seems prickly, but he's fairly naïve, that one. He's guarded around most people, so it's nice to see."

"I want to be someone he can trust. I made a promise."

"You seem like the type to keep a promise."

"I hope to be."

Abel was absent for dinner, and Gemma left shortly afterwards, stating something about having to make arrangements with a man about Tidus' mother. No one had spoken her name in front of me. Jecht rarely did, and whenever he did, he'd smile slightly with the shape of her name.

My bones ached, and I lay down on the sofa with the Zanarkand history book. Gemma had put some water and a bottle that she said had a potion for dreamless sleep, in case I had a nightmare or something. She also mentioned not to use it if I didn't need it, since it was quite expensive.

That explains the blurry sleep of last night, at least.

Late in the evening, I became aware of Tidus in the doorway, watching me. I waited for him to do something, pretending I hadn't noticed his presence.

He floundered for a moment, and then stepped into the room. "My room is cold," he announced.

"Did you need a blanket?" I looked around, the only available one was across my knees. "Here." I offered it, but he didn't move to take it.

"Can I… sleep where I slept last night?"

I blinked, and then nodded, adjusting myself to make more room.

He stepped over me, and then settled in, resting his head against my chest. "Auron."

"Yes?"

"I was making sure I knew it. How do you spell it?"

I spelled it out for him, and he nodded.

"Easy, five letters, just like mine. You have more vowels than me, though."

"Yes."

He began fiddling with the metal ring on the front of my robe, flipping it back and forth between his small fingers.

"Auron, can I ask you a question?"

"I won't lie to you."

"Is my dad dead?"

"…I don't know."

He didn't reply, and I couldn't think of anything else to say.

We fell asleep.


	2. Nightmare

**Nightmare**

It looked like the clouds were on fire. Pyreflies soared in huge flocks, twisting and bursting, like a funereal fireworks show.

A rock was digging into my back, and my neck was twisted painfully back. I coughed, and eased myself up, wondering what had just happened. We had just camped in the Calm Lands… no… Gagazet… no…

We'd returned.

I sat up, scrambling over the rocks and clumps of grass and dirt.

"Braska!" I called, climbing over crumbling sand. "Jecht!" It was quiet. Frantically, I scanned the horizon, looking for a spot of colour, a signal of my friends, anything.

A glimmer of light in the hazy distance flashed twice. I ran towards it, limping. My ankle was throbbing, and I tripped, knocking the wind out of my chest.

Something was wriggling in the distance, it looked like Sinspawn. The glimmer shone again, and I got to my feet as best I could, running despite the pain.

"My lord!" I called again. "Jecht! Where are you?"

"Auron," Braska's voice, distantly. The glimmer waved, and I squinted, realising it was Braska's staff. The ornamentation was bent and broken. He's still alive. Maybe he won't die. Maybe we can walk away from here together. Hope lifted my spirits and I ran faster.

"My lord!" I dropped to his side, steadying him where he knelt. My sword was stuck in the ground next to him. A Sinspawn was cleaved in two around the sharp edge, and Braska rested his forehead against the flat of the blade. His robe was ripped, and his headdress had been long discarded.

"It's over," he said, and dropped his staff. He looked at me, and his eyes were shining, the brightest blue. "We did it, Auron."

"My lord, we-" I began.

"Are you alright?" he interrupted, touching my face. His fingers were cold. Unusual for him. "You're hurt." A spark burned against my forehead, and he drew his hand away. He looked confused. "I can't seem to heal you."

"My- Braska, it's fine. What about you?" I grabbed his hand, trying to warm it. It burned me again, and I gasped.

Pyreflies. His fingers had already begun to disappear.

"Pretty," he laughed, and his nose started to bleed. He fell into my arms, still smiling. "Thank you, Auron. Thank you for being here with me in the end." He leaned into my chest, like he would on nights that were especially cold. His arms wrapped around my waist, an insubstantial embrace. The pyreflies scorched my skin but I held him close, as if I could force him back together.

"Braska, no, please. Heal yourself. Quickly!" I began to panic, realising what was happening, but rejecting it at the same time. I dug in my pockets one-handed, looking for a Phoenix Down, or a potion, anything. Nothing.

"It's… it's over. I brought the Calm, didn't I?" His voice didn't shake, still as resolute as ever.

"You did. You did so well." I could feel tears overflowing now, splashing into his hair, I held him tighter, whispering. "Please, please don't disappear…"

"Take this to Yuna," he said, his barely-visible fingers pushing his silver beaded bracelet into my hand. "It's all I have."

I cried, clutching the bracelet, and pulled all that was left of him to me. "Braska, please…" My breath caught in shuddering gasps, and I trembled, feeling the heat of the pyreflies intensify.

"Thank you for being my guardian."

I put my hands to my face, sitting in the middle of the Calm Lands, and screamed.

I was alone.

o-o-o-o-o-o

 _He's alone._

 _There's no one like him here._

 _I still don't like it._

 _His will is absolute._

o-o-o-o-o-o

I sat up, gasping and coughing like I had just surfaced from underwater. My hands were clamped to my face again, and stiff.

Awkwardly, I pulled them away, straining to relax my fingers. It was dark in the living room, and the only sound was the lapping water outside the window. I became aware of the sound of my breathing, and clamped my hands to my mouth to stifle the noise. I counted my breaths, short and fast through my nose until they regulated. Something was running down my face. I probably tore my wound open again.

I can still feel the pyreflies on my skin. Braska's pyreflies. I groaned, my stomach churned, and I readjusted, pushing my foot onto something warm.

My heart jumped, and I opened my eye, trying to focus with only half my vision. Tidus' eyes were shining in the dark, and he was sitting at my feet, looking at me.

My cheeks grew hot, and I tried to speak. To say something to reassure him, or make it seem less than it was. He didn't move, or make a sound.

"S-sorry," I managed eventually.

"You were talking a lot. And you pulled my hair."

"I'm sorry," I said. My hands ached. I must have been rough.

"You said my dad's name."

I remained silent, wondering what else I might have said.

"And something like 'Braska'. You cried." He didn't sound accusatory, or mocking. Just factual.

"I miss them," I said.

"My mom misses my dad. That's why she's sick." His words were small in the infinity of black, and he began to worry the blanket above my foot. "Are you- are you sick?"

I thought about the nightmare, and the lapses in my sanity yesterday. My memories were too strong; they're better than me. But I didn't want to die.

That's not true. I did want to die. I wanted to go to my friends, and be at peace, to rest in Braska's Calm knowing that we did all we could. But I didn't do all I could. Something knocked me out in the battle against Sin. I wasn't there when he needed me, I was a failed guardian.

I trembled, and images began to resurface. The pitted Calm Lands, a rain of stars, and Jecht's body. It didn't disappear like Braska's. Sinspawn surrounded him-

"Hey, stop it." Tidus' small hands were pulling my hands away from my face. "Gemma's gonna be mad that you didn't listen."

I let him put my arms down, and looked up at him. He seemed to be trying not to cry, he looked like his father. I stared at him, memorizing every detail. "I'm not sick like your mom."

He nodded, and sat down. He leaned against me, with his hands on his knees. "A bunch of strangers keep telling me to smile. I hate it."

I listened, curling around him slightly.

"I don't feel like it. Dad always said that crying is for babies. But all I wanna do is cry. Mom doesn't even care, so I just do what I want and-" He let out a frustrated sound, pounding his fist into his knee. He whipped around, finding my gaze in the dark. "Do you think I'm being dumb?"

"No."

He was obviously disarmed by that. "Well, neither are you," he said gruffly, patting my shoulder. He yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

"You should sleep, little one," I said.

"I'm not little!" Tidus said. "…Can I still sleep here?"

"I don't mind. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Have some potion, maybe." He stood up, and rearranged the blanket from its crumpled knots. "Gemma said it's important that you sleep."

I nodded, and took the bottle. I wasn't sure how much to take, so I settled on a small mouthful. It tasted like Al Bhed potion. Thick like honey.

As we adjusted and got comfortable, I could feel the potion's effects numbing my arms and legs. It worked up my extremities, making them feel like they were disappearing. Like Braska…

The thoughts numbed, and became wispy, and my hands stayed at my side. This potion really works wonders.

o-o-o-o-o-o

 _He doesn't know._

 _What a fool._

 _Someone should tell him._

 _Let him dream, let him believe._

o-o-o-o-o-o

The darkness fell away like a sheet, and I was sitting before I realised I was awake.

"Good afternoon," Gemma said. Her voice sounded far away, and I looked around blearily, rubbing my scarred eye. It stung. "You're really determined to wreck your face, huh?"

"Good afternoon," I replied, smacking my lips.

"There's water there," she indicated the end table. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm-"

"Tidus says you were awake in the night," Gemma lit her pipe, settling further into the wicker chair by the window. "Did you need to talk about it?"

I debated just spilling it all to her, someone who knows nothing of the rest of Spira. She'd think I was insane. She'd never let me stay. It'd be a weight off my chest to just say it out loud.

"If you hold on to it like that, you might go crazy," she puffed her pipe. "Or you'll find a stupid way of controlling it." Gemma looked meaningfully at the bottle of potion. "It is half past three in the afternoon. I realise you're injured, but you were in dreamless sleep. It's not advised to be taken for that long. The doctors say it can lead to disappearing."

"Disappearing?"

"People can become lost in their dreams in this city," Gemma said. "They can give up and just disappear into a dream."

"How?" I stood up, testing my feet on the floor before committing. I stretched carefully, and caught my scent, quickly putting my arms down.

"Yes, you smell," Gemma smirked, and tapped her pipe. "Some people speculate that because of the events a thousand years ago, the city state has changed."

"What was it like before?"

"Well, a metropolis, like your Bevelle, but built on 'the ideals and dreams of the Summoners'. More or less, it's something more magical. The city itself is an entity. Something sentient that should be appreciated. When someone becomes disillusioned with the wonders of Zanarkand, it can reject them and they disappear."

"They die…?" I asked.

"Yes."

"His mother… She's…"

"She's given up. Her wonder has gone." She sounded bitter, like there was something more than Tidus' mother bothering her.

I folded my arms, and looked over the books in the shelf next to Gemma. The spines were blurry, but I realised what was there. Information. Information about a world apart from Spira. These books could hold the key to defeating Sin. Properly.

The thing I saw… the thing that devoured Jecht. I need to find out what it was.

"I can help you with those, if you need. His mother was quite a historian herself, and some of those old texts are a little tricky."

"Thank you," I said, approaching the bookcase.

"There's something wrong with this city," Gemma said softly, looking out the window and following her smoke trail. "The dream must end."

I looked down at her, wondering what she was thinking after such an odd statement.

"I can smell you from here, sweetheart. You should probably go shower."

"What's a shower?"

Gemma had a remarkable way of not making me feel stupid when explaining things to me. After accompanying me to the bathroom once again, she indicated the bathtub, and the spout-like attachment on the wall. She twisted a knob, and hot water poured out of the spout in a rain-like spray.

It was fantastic.

She helped me undress, I felt like a young child again. Gemma did look a bit like my mother, though certainly more wrinkled. She peeled the bandages from my back and arm, and surveyed the damage. I tried not to look, but caught a brief reflection in the large mirror. The image was blurry, but I could see angry red splashed over my body, carving down my arms and torso. The largest scar continued past my hips and well onto my thigh. I blushed a bit at my nakedness, I wasn't used to being around anyone other than my comrades. She was thoroughly unabashed, checking on the wounds and taking care to remove the bandages without much pain. The last one on my neck hurt the most, but she took great care, apparently noticing my discomfort.

"Here we are," Gemma held my arm as I stepped over the edge of the bathtub into the warm rain. "Soaps, and all that right there. Don't slip," she said, pointing at a bar attached to the wall. "Grab that if you do, and make some noise. I'll come help you if I can hear. I'll make you some soup, all right?"

I nodded, and grabbed the bar with my right arm. The water was soothing, but stinging in certain places. I grabbed a small bar of purple soap, and passed it over my underarms, thankful for the strong perfume.

It reminded me of Jecht. It makes sense, I suppose. I remember him shopping with more interest than his personality suggested at a soap stand. Maybe he was just looking for something that reminded him of home. He did eventually find whatever this purple soap is, and made sure to have a couple bars with him.

I miss Braska's tea. If I could have one thing from Spira… that would be it.

I took a deep breath, and shook my head, stepping further into the hot water. It washed over my hair, pulling it in front of me in ropy black strands. I tugged at one, wondering if it was all going to turn grey. An old man before my time. Jecht would laugh at me. I scrubbed some soap over my scalp, and let it rinse away, watching the bubbles flow around my feet.

A bath would be better, I thought. That might only be because standing is difficult right now.

After running drills and sparring in the temple yards, the acolytes would all go to the baths for a long soak. I became almost addicted, under the impression that bruises couldn't stick if you washed them away. I ran my fingers over my scarred left arm.

Maybe if I stood here long enough, I could leave clean.

I shook my head, and turned the knob. The water didn't stop, but got painfully cold. I actually cried out and the sudden change, and turned the knob again. This time, it turned off, and I was standing in the bathtub, shivering and soaking wet.

Carefully, I stepped over the bathtub, and found a towel, hastily wrapping it around me. I was so cold. I wondered if Gagazet felt this cold.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub, and dabbed myself dry as best as I could. My hands felt like ice on my hot scars, and the previously mentioned soup hastened me. I wrapped the towel around my waist, and gingerly pulled my robe on, looking for some pants. Gemma took the rest of my clothes away.

My hair was already soaking a wet spot on the back of my robe, and I brought it forward, about to wring it out when the door opened, and Tidus walked in with a stack of clothes. "These are stupid dad's. Gemma says you need new clothes."

Jecht's clothes. Strange. I expected something more outlandish, but they were mostly black.

"And there's some soup, so don't take too long." His gaze lingered over my chest, in the piercing manner that only children have. He said nothing about the scars, and then left.

Jecht's clothes were a bit too short for me, but cozy, presumably for fishing in the cold bay. I opted to go without a shirt, but held my robe together with a brown belt.

My steps were quiet, but each one sent pain shooting up my leg and chest. With more effort than I would have thought necessary, I made it to the sofa, and sank down with a long breath.

The soup was bright yellow, and saltier than anything I had ever tasted. Strange. It was hot, and I appreciated it.

Gemma examined me afterwards, and redressed my wounds, after slathering them with a thick white paste. Initially, it stung, but soothed the burning pain.

"She wants to talk to you," she said quietly, eyeing Tidus playing at the table. "About her husband."

I pressed my lips together, and shivered. The shower sapped all my heat.

"Now would be good, I'll get him started on his homework."

"All right," I said, heading towards the mysterious hallway at the back of the houseboat. Beyond that door, that frail woman waited.

It took her a full ten seconds to look away from the window and to me when I entered.

"You…" she beckoned me closer, motioning to the chair beside the bed. "Tell me about my Jecht."

I pulled my robe tighter around me, the chill of this room was unbearable. The floor felt like ice. The inn near Macalania had floors like this. I wished I had put socks on.

I sat, and looked at her. Still pale, and thin. Her hand look like polished porcelain, like I had seen in the more affluent temples in Bevelle.

"My Jecht… Did he talk about me?"

"He did," I said. "He said he missed you and Tidus."

"He missed me. What happened to him?"

"I'm not certain," I tried not to think about it, the Sinspawn, the black thing that dripped from the jaws of the monstrosity that was Sin. Jecht's body, the Aeon he became, overcome with a thousand wriggling Sinspawn.

"-he tried to come home, right?"

I shook my head, pinching my hand to further ground me in this reality. "Yes, he wanted to show you pictures of the things he saw."

"He was your friend?"

"One of my best friends."

"Did you have fun together?" A hostility crept into her voice, and her eyes narrowed. I wasn't sure how to answer that question when it was posed in that tone of voice.

"Yes, I suppose we did." I said slowly, watching her reaction. Her lips pressed into a hard line, and she glowered at me.

"So he was happy while he was away?"

"Sometimes… yes."

Her eyes flashed, and she looked away, breathing hard through her nose. "Happy without me…"

I shook my head, and stood up, leaning over the bed slightly to catch her gaze.. "He talked of you often, about how he missed home, and wanted to bring all sorts of things home to your son-"

She shrieked, and struck out, slashing my face with her fingernails. Like a fiend. Unsent people become unstable like this. She's becoming a fiend. Her face is twisting, and becoming something else.

I'm defenseless right now. My sword is in the next room. I stumbled back, falling over the chair, and landed hard on my left arm. I must have shouted, I heard the sound.

I have to protect them. I forced myself to my feet, and stood as tall as I could before the shrieking woman. Fear plunged ice into my heart, and I shook, trying to remain resolute. Once she struck again, I would try to contain the fiend.

I readied myself, my hands up in the defensive stance taught to me in my first class in training. Defense of others, your first priority. Let your own bones break if that will spare another. Your body is not to be considered sacred. Order of Yevon keep me strong for I am but one man and I have no strength without the fear of Death.

"What is going on in here?" Gemma was at the door, and I spread my arms wider, looking back at her.

"A fiend-" I began, and something smashed into me. I landed hard on my back, and felt bony fingers on my throat.

"Give him back! Why didn't you bring him back? Why didn't you-!" Her hands wrapped around my neck fully and smashed the back of my head into the floor.

Not a fiend.

A distraught widow. Woman. I don't know if he's dead. She's not a widow until- My head hit the floor again, and black spots clustered at the corner of my vision. A fiend in front of me, clawing my throat out. A woman, frenzied.

The fingers left my throat, and I could hear the sound of crying. Something different. Mother and son. I wish I hadn't come here. They wouldn't be crying if I wasn't here. I should leave.

o-o-o-o-o-o

 _She sees he doesn't belong._

 _She was foolish._

 _She doesn't belong._

 _He is who we need._

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Up you get now, come on, sweetheart."

Mama? It's too early. I'm too tired. Please go away, Mama.

"Auron!" Her voice got sharper, like usual. I had to get up and wake everyone else up and then go feed the chickens and… wait.

I opened my eye, wishing I would just stay asleep one of these times.

Gemma was hovering over me with a bottle of sharp smelling liquid. I was familiar with the scent, and blinked up at her a couple times. "I can't let you do a damn thing alone, hm?"

"A fiend. She was a fiend," I rasped.

"Fiends don't often show up here. You were mistaken."

I shook my head, rattling the beads of a headache. "I saw."

"Enough."

I went silent.

"She's dead."


	3. Protect

**Protect**

I remember when I received the news that my mother died.

I had been in the Temple for nearly eleven years by then, and was nearly at the end of my acolyte training.

Evening in Bevelle was always beautiful. Deepest black amidst the shining jewel tones. I was walking home from a meeting with one of the more influential men of the Order, an understudy of Grand Maester Mika. He hinted at several things I wasn't particularly interested in. Political moves and advantageous alignments. Busywork. My main focus was simply the defence of the people. Bureaucracy did not appeal to me. The monks seemed to be grooming me for better things. Sometimes there would be the odd trinket in my belongings, things to adorn my uniform. Sometimes an extra portion of meat with my dinner. Sometimes a special invitation to meet with a visiting Maester.

Special treatment resulted in resentment.

The streets were bustling; people were preparing for the upcoming festival, as well as for the pilgrims that would be arriving for the upcoming festival. I recognised a fair few of them from the temple, and nodded as I passed some fellow acolytes as I turned down a shortcut alley.

"Auron!" One of them called out, and I turned.

"Oh, Gillam, good eve-" I began, when someone grabbed me from behind. I reacted quickly, and elbowed whoever it was in the side of the head. Several more hands clamped around my arms, and someone kicked my legs out from under me. My knees slammed into the stones, and I winced.

"Where were you tonight, huh?" Gillam approached me, holding a nearly empty bottle. He looked down at me on my knees, and took a swig. "Off being the pet prince?"

"I had a meeting with Understudy Marchand," I replied. I sometimes wished I could lie, but I never had any talent for it.

"We know. We're sick of you getting pampered and paraded around, like you're something special," he spat, and twirled the bottle. It flipped out of his fingers, and smashed against the alley wall.

I narrowed my eyes, wondering if this was all a joke. "I need to be going."

"Sure, but before you go…" Gillam wound up, as if he were aiming for a blitzball, and kicked me hard in the face. An unsettling crack split the air, and white hot pain pierced my skull. Their hands released me, and my hands flew to my face. Blood. A loose, but not lost tooth. My nose wasn't the same shape.

My eyes watered, and I watched the others leave. When I was sure they were gone, I let myself react. I gasped, and steeled myself, about to push my nose back into place. On three, I thought to myself.

One.

Two.

"Excuse me?"

What? I looked around, raising my eyes to the newcomer. A plainly dressed man, holding a note.

"Ah… are you acolyte Auron? From Locke Village?" When I didn't answer, he consulted his note. "Long black hair, and a grumpy face. Probably wearing red."

"Yes," I stood up, using the wall for support. "Do you need help?"

"No, but it looks like you could," he shifted from foot to foot. "I, ah, I have a message for you."

I wiped some of the blood flowing from my nose, raking past the cut on my lip. "Speak, then."

"Well, it's… it's about your mother."

"She is well?" I hadn't heard from her in a few months. Unusual, but I imagined she had been busy with the new hired help. I held my nose, wishing I had a handkerchief to stem the flow. "I have plans to visit next-"

"She's dead," he blurted out.

I stared.

The silence was stilted, interrupted by the revelry on the streets.

"Dead," I repeated.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding out a small bag. "These things were left to you."

I reached out with both hands, as if I were going to embrace my mother. He dropped the bag, and bowed.

"I'm truly sorry."

I said nothing, and stood still, looking down at the rough cloth bag. Slowly, I pulled the drawstring, and opened the bag.

Bright blue and yellow, dented and shining, rough and smooth.

Mama's beads.

Tidus received more than beads, but I can't imagine it was welcome. Certainly, just to see her, to feel the warm touch of his mother is what he really needed. Not a houseboat and his father's legacy.

He had confined himself to his bedroom since… since it happened. I understood. I myself haven't moved from the sofa, wrapped up in blankets. I've been so cold.

Absently, I spun the largest of Mama's beads, running my fingers over the white ring encircling it. I wondered what she might have looked like at the end. Peaceful, I hoped. Not screaming and wailing, striking out in pain and confusion. I shifted the beads, rotating them over my fingers and examining each one in turn.

"A strange rosary," Gemma commented. I didn't look up, still counting Mama's beads. "It is not your fault. Know that."

I pressed my lips together, and swallowed. "Yes, it is."

"It's not. She would have passed eventually," Gemma's voice was harsh. "Perhaps not exactly in that manner, but it could have been worse. She may have turned in front of the boy."

I looked up. "I thought you said I was mistaken."

"I couldn't say she was a fiend in front of Tidus," Gemma picked at frayed piece of wicker on the arm of her chair. "He's already had to deal with losing her, we don't need to make it worse."

I saw the sense in that. "What… what should I do?"

"Hm? You're staying here, aren't you? I wonder, do you have any experience with purifying a space?"

I nodded, remembering the rituals to clear residual pyreflies. Summoners were the ones to send the spirits, but sometimes monks could manage a clean up of sorts. People often said the areas where a fiend appeared felt unsettling, so we were called in to bless the land and banish any lingering pyreflies.

"Would you mind giving the bedroom a bit of a spiritual tidying up?"

"I can do that," I nodded. "Shall I do it now?"

"Probably."

I stood, pushing myself up with the arm of the sofa. I could feel Gemma's eyes on me as I headed down the hallway.

The door was still ajar; I entered cautiously. Empty. The window was shut and curtained, stifling.

"Order of Yevon… Order of Yevon, rid the fallen for they are lost souls and have no peace without the embrace of Death." I muttered, gripping Mama's beads. Pyreflies reacted to my words, and wormed their way out of the bed. Not surprising. The bed, where she existed since her husband left, where they slept, where they-

I blushed. Ridiculous of me. I can hear Jecht laughing at me. He always thought it was strange that I showed no interest in the women that flocked around him in taverns.

"Come on, Auron! Just enjoy yourself!"

I could feel heat coming to my face every time he goaded me about it. I blamed it on the campfire, and poked at the embers with a long stick.

"There's gotta be someone for you, man. What's your type?"

"Please, Jecht, I don't have a type."

"Sure ya do!" Jecht spoke with unwavering confidence. "Every man has a type."

I shook my head. "I don't." It was true. Women had never appealed to me. I preferred the solitude of Yevon, perhaps.

"You're probably one of those guys with a wild side, I bet. Only the loosest of-"

"Jecht!" Braska interrupted, and I sighed with relief. No one was better at silencing Jecht's depravity better than Braska. "Leave him alone." He spoke as if he were babysitting toddlers. I imagine it must have felt like that, with our constant bickering.

Jecht relented, and we were silent, looking into the fire. I looked over the flames at Braska, who was mending my glove with practiced ease. Jecht was spinning his blitzball and kept glancing at me. He caught my eye and winked at me roguishly.

"Eyes," I said eventually.

"Huh?" Jecht said. "You like 'em with eyes, eh? That's… something, I guess."

"Blue eyes," I clarified. My face felt redder than ever.

"Well, what do you know? Our little Auron is growing up!"

Braska smiled, and I could tell he was looking at me. Jecht moved closer to me, and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Tell me more about your perfect woman, Auron! She already sounds like a dream, with her pretty blue eyes."

"Get off me!"

"Nope, let's hear your deepest darkest desires, buddy!"

"I don't have any!"

I didn't.

That's not entirely true.

I cleared my thoughts, and began repeating the prayers. There was a strange presence in the room.

Like Jecht. Perhaps the pyreflies were reacting to my memories. I lifted my arms, mimicking the Summoner's movements at a Sending. The pyreflies whirled and merged, into a larger one in the centre of the room, hovering over the bed. "Order of Yevon, rid the fallen for they are lost souls and have no peace without the embrace of Death." I said again, and reached for the pyreflies. They burst, and the feeling that Jecht was nearby was overwhelming. I whispered his name, wondering if he would reply.

"Hey, Auron," his voice. My heart stopped, and I froze. It sounded like he was right behind me. I couldn't turn to look. Time stopped, and I focused on my hand in the swarm of pyreflies. They were halted in midair.

"Jecht…"

"You made it. Thanks."

"Jecht, I'm sorry!" It all rushed towards me, flashing images of the end. Braska, Jecht, his wife. All people I should have protected. "I failed you! I-"

"Nah, man. I still need you to do something."

"Anything," I said. "Anything you need."

"Just… live, okay? Try to be happy."

I was silent, wondering if these were really Jecht's words or a complicated construction in my own mind.

"C'mon, smile."

I couldn't force a smile to my lips. I trembled, and felt tears rolling down my cheek.

"Ah, you'll get it eventually."

His presence was diminishing, and I tried to hold on to it. "Don't leave!"

"I'll see you around, Auron. Take care of my son."

"I promise," I said, with a shaky voice.

He was gone.

I stood in silence for a time with my head bowed. Tears hit the floor intermittently, and I made no attempt to stop them.

Smile. How could he expect me to do that right now?

I took a deep breath. I have to try. The air was still dusty; I glanced at the closed curtains. Sunlight speckled them, attempting entrance through the loosely woven threads.

Resolutely, I crossed to them, opened them wide, and shoved the window open. Salty fresh air oozed in like a cloud, stirring the dust motes in the air. The smell of the sea was refreshing, and the cool air chilled the tears on my face. I wiped them away.

I'll try, Jecht.

o-o-o-o-o-o

 _Who was that?_

 _The armour spoke._

 _To this new person. The dead in the dream._

 _Finally._

o-o-o-o-o-o

Gemma made no attempt to make Tidus leave his room. Perhaps she knew it would be a lost cause, like trying to get his mother to leave hers.

I had just woken up from a nap when she announced dinner. We ate silently, and she delivered a plate to Tidus' room. I heard her speak at his door, but there was no reply.

"I have to leave for the night," she said, as the sun was going down. "I have another meeting regarding the will."

"Alright," I said. "Is there anything I should do?"

"Do you know how to cook?"

I considered that, wondering if basic ration preparation counted. "Somewhat."

Gemma smiled, and consulted the bookcase. "Here. 'Healthy Meals for Two.' This should illuminate some things."

"I see," I said, accepting the book and laying it on my lap.

"Try to sleep, but read if you can't." Gemma put on her coat, and slid her shoes on. "There will be a man from the city coming here tomorrow to assess the will. He'll want to meet you."

I wondered if my apprehension showed on my face. "Oh, uh, when?"

"2 o'clock sharp. Try to be presentable?"

"Certainly."

"If you need anything, I'll be next door."

When she left, a resounding silence filled the room. This is where I will live. This is my home now. The houseboat rocked, and I steadied myself. I wondered if I would ever get used to that.

After about an hour, when the sun was completely gone, I heard Tidus' door open and close. The slight sound of his footsteps approached, and he lingered in the doorway, watching me, just like last night.

I said nothing, waiting for him to do something. He sniffed, and scrubbed his face, and stepped into the halo of the lamp light.

"What did you do to my mom?" he asked.

I said nothing, afraid of the effect my words could have. He approached me, his little hands balled into fists. Tears shook in his eyes, and his cheeks were red.

"Did you say something mean?"

I still remained silent, finding it difficult to meet his eyes.

"Did you hurt her? Why is she gone?" Tidus' voice was strong, but quavering with emotion.

"She… she died. Something took her away."

"A fiend. I heard you say it. At school they say that bad people become fiends. Was my mom a bad person?" He sounded more heartbroken than angry now, and I finally met his gaze.

"No, she was just lost," I said.

"Lost? What do you mean? You did something, didn't you?!" Tidus was right in front of me, his voice raising. "She yelled at you! What did you do?"

"I couldn't give her what she needed," I said. "She wanted your father back."

"So this is all because of him? I hate him!" Memories of Jecht surfaced, shimmering in front of my eyes as I watched Tidus rage. My friend, his enemy. He made me laugh, but made his son cry. Jecht was always smiling, laughing. Tidus hadn't had a glimmer of a smile since I arrived.

"Don't-" I began.

"I'll say whatever I want! It's his fault she's dead! I hate him! I hate him!" Tidus fumed, and hit my chest with a tiny fist. "I hate you! I don't want you as my guardian!"

I lurched off of the sofa, trying to walk away from that word. I crossed the room, hugging myself and trying to retain myself. I have to keep it together. I have to-

Grass grew over the hardwood floor, yellow and green and red. Red… I could feel the wind at my back, and the stench of decaying Sinspawn. In the circle of light offered by the lamp, I could see him.

"Jecht!" I ran to him, desperate to see him. He's still here. Braska was gone, but Jecht is still here. I knelt at his side, surveying the damage. His body was changed, warped into that frightening Aeon that destroyed Sin. A hero's burden.

"Wake up, Jecht!" I cried, shaking his shoulders. "Wake up!"

His eyes opened, but they were milky white and strange. He made a sound, as if to say my name, and his arm spasmed towards me. I gripped his hand, and it changed between mine, becoming clawed and growing larger.

"Get… away…" he croaked, and shoved me away. His strength was tremendous, I was knocked back, nearly to where Braska disappeared.

"Jecht!" I ran forward again, halting when several Sinspawn dropped from the sky. They fell like huge raindrops, spearing into the ground.

My sword… I need my sword. There. I retrieved it, and returned to Jecht, slashing wildly at the Sinspawn. They fell at my feet, screeching. It sounded like they were all screaming my name.

A final Sinspawn dropped, a large spider shape. It descended slowly, in a controlled way. I charged forward, and slashed at it, lopping off half its legs. A loud keening noise echoed through the air, and the spider flashed bright white. Yevon's symbol glowed bright on its back, and it… laughed.

It spoke then, with a chorus of all the Sinspawn. "You will be remembered for your arrogance. Yevon will remember you, and remind the world of your failings. You will be honoured for your failure. You survived when your Summoner defeated Sin. You should be dead. Live with your pain, Auron, the legendary _guardian_."

The spider dropped onto Jecht's chest. He was struggling to breathe, and his form was grotesque, roiling and shifting between his human body and the Aeon's. With an uneven scuttling motion, the spider crawled into his mouth.

"No!" I shouted, and threw my sword. Too late. Jecht's body shook, and the Sinspawn latched onto it, tiny teeth finding grip on anything.

Jecht's screams were warped, the Sinspawn was joining him. I tore at them with my bare hands, trying to clear them away from his face. His arm lifted disjointedly, and rested for a moment on my shoulder.

"Auron."

I halted, and his eyes met mine.

"Remember your promise." Jecht's voice throbbed in my mind; his lips didn't move. He grabbed me easily, his hand wrapping around my whole body. He lifted me, and I couldn't breathe, the pressure on my chest was suffocating. Pyreflies shot past me, scorching my hair and clothes and skin, and then I was still.

Jecht had set me down on the highest point of the Calm Lands, overlooking the char and broken ground.

I stood, and he ascended into the sky, his body twisting and changing in the air as the Sinspawn overwhelmed him. Pyreflies were forging armour around him, glowing with a pearly iridescence, as if he were being encased in seashells.

I fell to my knees, watching as the mass disappeared into the clouds. I was alone again. Just like when they went into that chamber with Lady Yunalesca. Just like when Braska disappeared. I needed them. I had nothing without them.

Shaking, I reached for my jug, hoping for some kind of comfort. Smashed. The clay pieces dangled at my side, held up by Mama's beads. I wound the beads around my fingers, and they brushed against Braska's bracelet on my left wrist. I fell forward.

I didn't make a sound when my heart broke.

o-o-o-o-o-o

 _What is he planning?_

 _The armour shouldn't be allowed to remember._

 _Yevon is growing bold._

 _This guardian is our best hope._

o-o-o-o-o-o

I awoke to the sound of Tidus crying beside me.

I was on the floor, my hands were digging into my face. I could feel a scratch underneath every fingernail. My muscles strained, and I straightened my fingers, relaxing as best as I could.

"I'm sorry!" Tidus sobbed. "Please don't die!"

My voice was tangled in my throat, but I tried to speak. "Ti-"

"I didn't mean it, I'm sorry!" He grabbed my hand. "Don't die, please!"

I gripped his hand, and he looked at me. His face was patchily red, and tears were flowing freely. He looked like Jecht, how his face changed at the end.

No. I have to stay here.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said. "I'm sorry."

"You were scary, what's wrong with you?"

"I saw some terrible things," I said, easing myself into a sitting position. I was near the hallway to Tidus' mother's bedroom, and I could see that the lamp had been knocked over, as well as the kitchen table. The blue pitcher had smashed into pieces, and there was water on the floor. My sword was sticking out of the floor beside the window. My sword. I turned to Tidus, probably frightening him with my abruptness. "Are you hurt? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Panic edged into my voice, and he shook his head quickly.

"No, I got out of the way. You were scary."

Shame blazed across my face, and I dropped my head in my hands.

"Are you okay? Don't go away again, okay?"

I shook my head, and wiped my face, pushing my hair out of my face. "I'm sorry."

Tidus fidgeted, and then stood up. "I'm tired."

"I am too," I said, and got to my feet, using the wall as support.

"Gemma says its good to read before bed…" Tidus said. "Will you read me something?"

I didn't turn around, still leaning against the wall. The dark hallway was comforting in its emptiness.

"I could read you something. You know, if you want."

At that, I smiled a bit, and turned to him. He gave me a watery smile, and he held out his hand. I took it, and, avoiding the mess I was going to regret leaving, returned to the living room. We settled into our somewhat familiar position on the sofa, and I grabbed the nearest book on the coffee table.

"That's a cookbook! That's not interesting!"

"Get a different one, if you want."

"I'm already comfortable."

"Don't complain then," I said, opening to the first recipe. "Chicken, with rice and vegetables."

"Boring," he said, flipping a few pages. "Beef with brown sauce and potatoes! This looks way better."

We read down the list of ingredients, and he affirmed or denied their inclusion.

"I don't like green peppers, they stink."

"I don't like them either," I said, to his approval.

We flipped through nearly half the book, commenting on the pictures and which ones we would like to try. We stuck a few bookmarks in on recipes we both liked.

It was unusual. It felt so ordinary. After the tumult of the evening, the yelling and crying. Now we're here, and he's happy. The adaptability of children mystified me.

I found myself drifting off, the book lolling in my loose grip.

"Auron, hold the book up!"

"…"

"Auron, are you asleep?"

"Not yet…"

"Go ahead and fall asleep, I'll protect you."

"Alright."


End file.
